


Static

by em_gray



Series: AU fic challenge [2]
Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, I am very tired, I feel like I'm forgetting something, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Radio, Suicidal Thoughts, bc you know it's a tggtvav fanfic and fuck henri montague sr, one alcohol mention, suicide attempt attempt, that's right he doesn't even get that far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22850371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/pseuds/em_gray
Summary: While messing around with an old radio, Percy accidentally stumbles across a lonely transmission.
Relationships: Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton
Series: AU fic challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640491
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57
Collections: TGGTVAV AU Challenge Fics





	Static

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinstripedJackalope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Radio Ship](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796626) by [pinstripedJackalope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/pseuds/pinstripedJackalope). 



> hello guess who broke word limit AGAIN but MORE DRAMATICALLY
> 
> My second fic in the au challenge chain! I really liked the radio concept from pinstripedJackalope's fic Radio Ship, and the whole one-sidedness of it (if that makes any sense), so I went with that, moved it to a modern setting and made it a bit angstier! (Though I tried not to make it too bad.) Hope you enjoy!

Everything still hurts when I finally sit down on my bed.

The past few days have felt unreal, a nightmare rushing by at such a speed that I’ve lacked a moment to wake up. Now I feel as though I have ages to do so, but I just… can’t.

My head keeps replaying the moment the doctor told me my diagnosis, over and over and _over_.

I let myself fall back with a sigh.

Ugh. I really, really don’t want to think about it. I look idly across the room. Not much has moved since I left. There’s a bit of a mess from when my uncle came back to pack some things, but most things have excruciatingly remained in place and the same. The same, but still forever different.

I sigh deeply and consider crying some more, just to have something on my hands. Then an object on my desk catches my eye.

It’s been sitting there since a few days before my surprise hospitalization, so it’s collected quite a layer of dust. I found it in the attic, while I was looking for perhaps another trace of my father’s life, from who he used to be. Maybe this radio used to be his. Maybe it’s just more old junk from my aunt and uncle. I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I don’t really care, either.

With great effort, I get up, take a few steps and let myself fall down on my desk chair right away. I briefly wonder if I’m always going to be feeling like this from now on. I can’t give the thought too much attention, because even _thinking_ about the sudden twist my life took brings tears to my eyes. Instead I absent-mindedly wipe a line of dust off the metal. The thing had caught my attention by its sheer cliche old-fashioned look. The speaker is still mostly covered by cobwebs. I run my fingers over the buttons, over the antennae, extending it and shortening it without really thinking.

When I found it, I’d wondered if I could get it to work again. Right now, it’s a distraction I could really use.

I put the plug in the nearest socket. All right. I think I succeeded at step one. Next I wonder if this thing has an on button, and if so, _where_. I turn it around in my hands a number of times, press every single button on it, tap the little cracked glass screen a few times with my fingernail. I briefly wonder how I would even know it’s on.

My next brilliant step involves taking out my laptop and googling it.

Ten minutes later I’ve found the on switch (the volume knob) and I’ve waited for the thing to charge. Now the lights are glowing, and I’m fiddling with another knob to set the frequency. I watch the little needle go back and forth behind the glass, trying to get it to one of the marked lines, but I get nothing but static. After a particularly painful noise I almost drop the radio. I sigh deeply. _What was I even trying to do?_ I put it down, lean forward and sigh deeply.

“ _Krr_ ... _Hello? Test… krrzt… two three… kr- Is this working?_ ”

I almost jump. I sit up way faster than my already sore head appreciates, and stare at the device. It’s back to static noises. Did I imagine that? No, that was definitely a voice, and it came from this thing.

I move closer, resting my chin on the desk and my ear about an inch from the speaker. Did I accidentally stumble across a still existing AM radio channel? (Do those still exist? I have no idea.) I’m about to start meddling with the frequency again, when the voice speaks once more.

“ _Is this - ugh. How do I even know I’m broadcasting? This is stupid._ ”

I try to move even closer and accidentally knock over the radio in the process. I’m scrambling for it, struggling to put it down and get the antennae pointing in the right direction again.

“... _start an AM radio channel. Of course. Best idea you’ve ever had._ ” A sigh. “ _I don’t know why I’m doing this._ ”

My heart is hammering against my ribs. _Please keep talking_ , I think, I will with everything I have in me. _Whoever you are, please don’t leave me alone._

“ _Ah, might as well. Anyway! Welcome, darlings, to the very first broadcast of, uh… a still to be named channel. This is Monty, your host for tonight, pleasure to meet you all._ ”

 _Monty_ . An actual person is talking to me, right now. Well, not to _me_ , specifically, but… What are the odds of some random guy deciding to start a radio channel the moment I’m tuning in? When it comes to signs I’m a sceptic, especially of late, but still…

“ _Sooooo. I haven’t decided what this channel will be about yet. There’ll definitely be no interesting news stories, or interviews, or scientifical what-evers, and I don’t think anybody wants to hear me sing._ ” He laughs at his own joke. The sound is peculiar, filtered through this low-quality tech but still so incredibly human. “ _Ah, guess I should start by telling you guys something about myself. Um. Well, I’m seventeen, extremely handsome - you should see me, I swear, you’d instantly fall in love with me… What else is there to say? My father’s an asshole, my sister’s an annoying little know-it-all, my mother’s been a zombie ever since the Goblin arrived… The Goblin is my brand new baby brother. Barely three months old, and already the center of the household. Thing is barely a foot long! It’s_ ridiculous _._ ”

I laugh, and throw a hand in front of my mouth. I’m not sure why. It’s been a while since I laughed, and it feels strange.

“ _Um… Did I mention that I’m ridiculously good-looking, and devilishly charming as well? But of the latter you’ll be convinced pretty soon, dear listener. What else is there to say? Oh, maybe I should mention that…_ ” He clears his throat. His next phrase is a mumble that I can barely hear. “ _It doesn’t matter, no one’s listening anyway._ ” He speaks up again. “ _Well, I’m bisexual, so there’s that. How did I find out? Well, sit down, ‘cause it’s time for a little story. When I was thirteen-_ ”

What follows is the story of how Monty apparently kissed a guy named Richard Peele - I think? There was some static at that part, or maybe it was just Monty sounding strangled at the name - and how this Richard got cold feet and told everyone he hadn’t wanted it.

“ _The little prick._ ” Monty laughs, though it sounds pained. “ _God, my father was angry. I…_ ” he trails off. “ _Ah, it doesn’t really matter. But that was the start of years of glorious romantic conquest. And now I’m continuing on the AM! Broadening my audience! By now you’ve no doubt fallen in love with me, dear listener. I almost feel bad for you. But! There’s good news! I’m gonna be broadcasting on this frequency ‘til I get bored of it, so you can just tune in again tomorrow! Or whenever. I… have no idea._ ” He laughs. It’s quiet for a while. “ _All right, that’s it for tonight, darlings! Thank you all for tuning in and talk to you soon!_ ”

There’s a soft _click_ and I’m alone again, with only static to keep me company. A strange ache goes through me, completely different from the various pains I’ve felt these past few days. I wait for ten more minutes in silence, then, with a heavy heart, I turn down the volume button.

My mind, which lately has been blank, refusing to think about the painful truth echoing around there, is suddenly racing. _His name is Monty_. I’m not sure why that feels so important, but it does. I liked listening to him. For at least fifteen minutes, my mind was completely off all the trouble in my life. Now he’s gone and…

I sigh.

I don’t leave my room anymore that night. It’s late, anyway. My aunt still comes knocking to tell me dinner’s on the table, and I say I’m not hungry. Ten minutes later, she leaves a plate in front of my door. I eat in silence. The rest of the evening I lie on my back, watching the dusk settle over the room, listening to the static I’ve got on a low volume until I fall asleep.

The following morning I’m forced to have breakfast downstairs. My aunt attempts small talk, and when I respond limitedly, she carefully starts on more risky subjects, like how I’m feeling. Then she starts about when I’ll be going back to school, since it is the middle of the semester. I give nondescript answers to all of her questions, then remove myself from the room as quickly as humanly possible.

The radio is playing static on when I close the door behind me. I stare at it for a while, head resting on my arms on the desk, then feel stupid. _Am I really just gonna sit here and wait for the odd chance he might broadcast again?_ I feel pathetic. I look around the room for something to do, eyes landing on my father’s fiddle. I haven’t played since the first seizure. I open the case, tentatively put it under my chin, hand with the bow hovering. Even this feels different, like my life’s permanently been split in two and everything is forever changed.

I play for a while, static in the background - in case I miss anything - but I’m tired quickly. I dig up some old notebooks with poems I wrote and read them without reading them. Around noon, my aunt comes to my room, and I’m forced through a conversation about how she’s called the principal and everything’s perfectly arranged for me to catch up on what I’ve missed, and that I’ll be starting again on Monday. I nod, feeling numb, tuned out to everything except the static in the background.

Around seven pm, it finally happens. I’m staring at the ceiling again, when the radio creaks and a voice sounds through the room.

“ _Krrrzzt - Hello? All right, we’re back._ ”

I leap across the room to turn up the volume.

“ _Welcome back, darlings, to a new broadcast of the still-to-be-named channel, once again with your host Monty! Now, today…_ ”

It becomes a regular pattern. Monty always broadcasts around the same hour, talking about his day or anything that pops into his mind, really, and his voice and stories become an anchor in the unruly tides of my life. I go back to school. It sucks, but I manage. Most days are easier than the one before them. The medication helps. My life returns to a normal, a new normal I’m still getting used to.

I learn more about Monty. Well, he stays vague enough that I don’t think I’d be able to find him if I tried, and I can tell that sometimes there’s subjects he sharply edges away from (his father being a notable one), but he seems to enjoy talking and more specifically talking about himself. I’m more than happy to listen.

“ _I’m dating this girl from my class now. She’s stunning-_ ”

“ _My sister keeps whining about medical school. Can’t imagine why_ anyone _would willingly study ten more years than legally required. Today she told me I’d understand ‘_ if I was smarter _’. If I were smarter! Can you believe-_ ”

“ _Today, my mother forced me to hold the Goblin and he threw up on me. I’m never going near him again._ ”

Months go by. He doesn’t broadcast every day, but it’s close, and I think it’s becoming as important to him as it has to me. On good days, it’s a delightful extra, and on bad days, he really helps me through. He’s the closest I have to a friend at the moment, which is ridiculous, because he doesn’t even know I exist. I don’t let that stop me, though.

Somewhere in July, the broadcasts start becoming less frequent. He misses more days, until it’s only once or twice a week. He also starts sounding… worse. His voice is more tired, and he’s less cheerful. Most of the broadcasts are a few attempts at optimism, followed by long silences. I’m becoming genuinely worried about him.

One particular night, after a week of radio silence, I suddenly wake up. I’m tired, and it’s only one am. I don’t know what woke me, so I assume it was nothing and am about to go back to sleep, when I hear it again.

“ _Um, hello? It’s… It’s me again._ ” A deep sigh, then he tries to lighten up. “ _Sorry I’ve been a little absent lately, darlings. But I’m back tonight with more fascinating stories from my life._ ”

I’m at my desk, listening intently. He sounds bone weary.

“ _So, what’s new? Um… My girlfriend broke up with me._ ”

I swallow.

“ _Yeah, it’s… it’s really all right. We’ve been growing apart for a while and maybe I’m just… maybe I’m just not meant to…_ ” Another sigh. “ _No, that’s not really it. I mean, it happened, but… After that, I went out, and I may have gotten a bit too drunk, because when I got home, my… my f-father was there, and I might’ve been a little… rude._ ” Silence. “ _I don’t know. But he… he…_ ” I can hear tears in his voice. “ _Yeah, he was pretty tired of me being me, and he snapped, y’know? He does that more often. That’s right! Your dearly beloved Monty has a father who beats him. Pathetic, right?_ ” He tries to laugh it off, but he’s crying. _“But it’s… it’s… God. I don’t know. I’m just… so tired. Everything’s been too much and not enough lately. I’ve done some stupid things, which led to more stupid things, and I really feel like there’s no way out of this. I’m always gonna be stuck in this house, in this life, and I-_ ” A sob. “ _I don’t think I can do it._ ”

There’s a long pause during which he just sobs. I realize there’s tears on my cheeks.

“ _So this could be my last broadcast. I don’t know, I’m still making up my mind. But, um, if anybody, or anything out there, wants to give me a sign, or, whatever, I…_ ” He takes a deep, ragged breath. “ _I’ll be waiting at the foot of the statue on Greensforth Square. And so you know it’s me, I’ll be - let’s go really cliche - I’ll be wearing a red rose. Might as well. So, uh… Yeah. See you there. Or not. Goodbye, maybe._ ”

 _Click_ , and he’s gone. My heart is racing and I’m frozen in place. _I need to do something._ _I need to do something. I need to-_

Greensforth Square is halfway across town. I need to get there and fast, but by foot it’ll take me at least two hours. I can’t think straight, I’m so scared, and I end up doing the only thing I think might still help: I wake up my aunt and uncle and beg them to drive me there.

It’s taken me fifteen minutes to convince them I’m not crazy, then another twenty before we actually arrive. I can’t sit still, I’m losing my mind, and all I’m thinking is _oh god Monty’s gonna do something stupid I have to stop him-_

I jump out of the car while my uncle is still looking for a parking spot, then run across the square at a speed I had previously considered myself not to be capable of. Even from a fifty feet distance, I can tell there’s no one waiting there. I run around it, then another time, then again, because I _have_ to find him, I _have to-_

I stop, completely out of breath and at a loss of what to do. I’m gasping, but I can’t give up. I take a deep breath and shout, at the top of my lungs: “ _MONTY!_ ”

I startle a few resting pigeons, but after they’ve left, I’m alone in the night with no sound but my heavy breathing. I spin around, a number of times, looking in every direction and seeing no one.

Eventually I collapse from pure exhaustion. _I’m too late. I’m too late and he’s gone and I’m never gonna hear him again, I never even got to meet him-_

I’m a sobbing mess by the time I hear someone clear their throat. I start and look up.

Standing two feet away from me is a boy, about my age, short and with wavy blond hair, looking down on me awkwardly. He’s holding a red rose in his hand. We stare at each other for a long moment. Then one corner of his mouth tugs up, and a dimple appears. “Am I going crazy or did you just yell my name in the middle of this square at two am?”

 _He didn’t lie,_ is the first thing that crosses my mind. I realize I’ve been staring at him for a while when he waves a tentative hand in front of my eyes. “Um, hello? Are you okay?”

“You didn’t lie,” I say, without knowing why.

He frowns. “Lie about what?”

And, kneeling down on the concrete in the middle of the night with a tear-stained face, it just escapes me: “You really are beautiful.”

His eyes widen, and he goes beet red. He’s stumbling for words for a while. “Oh! Oh, um, I… thank you, but do I - know you…?”

“No,” I say. I stand up. “But I’ve been listening to your channel since you started it.”

He gasps in understanding. “You’re - you-? Wait. Someone was _actually_ listening to all the bullshit I’ve been saying?”

I nod, feeling a smile forming on my face.

“But. Wait. You’ve been _listening_ . And you still…” He sounds veritably scared now. “...showed up here? Wh- _Why_?”

 _Why?_ The answer to that question feels so obvious I struggle to put it into words. “Well, I... The night you first broadcasted, I was going through… a seriously rough patch. I really needed a sign. And you gave that to me. So when you asked for a sign tonight, how could I not return the favor?”

He’s gaping at me.

I grin. “And why wouldn’t I take the first chance I got to meet a fantastic and devilishly charming radio host in person?”

A laugh escapes him. He seems surprised at it at first, but then he starts laughing, and then he starts crying, and the two of us end up both laughing with tears rolling down our cheeks. God, anybody seeing us must think we’re insane.

When we’ve finally calmed down, I extend a hand. “Hi, Monty. Nice to meet you. I’m Percy.”

“Percy,” he repeats, a little bit in wonder. Then he grins again, broadly and dimples showing. “So nice to meet you, too.”


End file.
